


Up Up and Away

by teaandjam



Category: Wooden Overcoats
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Superman AU, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and it turned into this, gay boys are gay for each other and everyone knows it but them, georgie is great at everything, ok so this started out as a fun little "what if chapman was superman?" idea, reporters au, rudyard funn as lois lane basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9609692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandjam/pseuds/teaandjam
Summary: If Eric Chapman was being honest, he was pretty sure almost nothing happened in Piffling Vale before Superman showed up.Wooden Overcoats AU where Rudyard and Chapman are reporters, and Chapman is everyone's favourite alien superhero.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first fic in a very long time and it turned into this 10000 word monstrosity but I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Special thanks to my roommate Quinn, my sister Claire, and my best friend Darla, as well as panizzylightwood and stormybisexual on tumblr for their support this would have been abandoned ages ago if it wasn't for you guys I can't thank y'all enough <3

If Eric Chapman was being honest, he was pretty sure almost nothing happened in Piffling Vale before Superman showed up.

When he got to the island, there were barely enough people for it to be called a village, much less a town. But with Superman bringing the press of not only England but the entire world, it seemed like there were new people flooding to Piffling every day. Businesses were booming more than ever before, especially if they had Superman merchandise, and everyone found that their small little village was rapidly surpassing the population fit for a town and growing closer to becoming a _city_. This gave the people of Piffling their greatest idea yet: what better way to gain more tourists than to tell everyone about Superman themselves?

The Piffling Vale Journal was steadily turning into one of the most internationally read newspapers of all time, which made it a bustling and stressful, but incredibly exciting place to work. Because Eric Chapman was one of the lead reporters on the Superman incidents in London, he was quickly hired to the Journal and rose through the ranks. He was frightened moving to a new place and new job that he wouldn’t be able to integrate into society smoothly, but for the most part everyone was busy but friendly. There was, however, one employee that Chapman could not get his head around. Despite trying on every occasion to be pleasant and inviting to him, he refused to converse with Chapman like a regular person.

Honestly, how was Rudyard Funn - who was possibly the most rude, self-centred, arrogant, and just generally unpleasant man Chapman had ever met - still working at the Piffling Vale Journal?

Sure, he used to work as an undertaker giving him the perfect skill set required for writing obituaries. Sure, he has a sister Antigone who is currently the only undertaker on the island updating him every time another person died. Sure, he just so happened to be acquaintances with Georgie Crusoe, the editor’s personal assistant. And sure, he was _only_ the obituary writer despite being out in the field all the time, asking about the deceased person and putting them in the newspaper whether they liked it or not. But seriously, how did anyone manage being around such an awful person all the time and not just completely snap? 

God knows Chapman did. After a while, he found himself giving into Rudyard’s ridiculous defensive behaviour. Though Chapman tried to keep up his pleasant demeanour, the moment Rudyard Funn locked eyes with him he felt for the first time in his life his self control slip away. He would have to be a lot more careful if he were to make sure nothing happened… 

Oh yeah, it might be worth it to mention, Eric Chapman is actually Superman.

Everyone on Piffling, even Rudyard, had read Chapman’s story in the London Times of how the baby Kryptonian arrived on Earth as a baby and grew up among humans. Everyone knew about Superman’s extensive list of powers, and extensive list of enemies. The biggest of which being Majorie Smith - no corny villain name, but all the evil genius of the worst of the worst. The first thing Superman had done when he’d gotten to Piffling was make sure she was locked up in jail where she couldn’t hurt anybody else.

Superman had been saving kittens out of trees and stealing the hearts of Piffling residents for about 6 months before Chapman officially moved to the island, and everyone was astounded. Everyone except for maybe Rudyard, who seemed pretty unfazed by the whole Superman endeavour (making him even _more infuriating_ ).

And that’s how his day started (the way most of Chapman’s days started as a matter of fact), with Rudyard Funn being infuriating.

“Chapman!” 

“Rudyard what could it possibly be this time, I’m very busy and I doubt there’s much I can help you with in terms of obituaries.”

“Very funny Chapman, but there is something I think you can help me with.”

Chapman struggled to push down thoughts that were not appropriate for an office setting.  Rudyard rolled his eyes and slapped a file on Chapman’s desk, leaning on the wall separating his cubicle from his neighbour’s.

“What on Earth is this…?” Chapman wondered flipping through the pages in the file, “The Prophitte crime family? Rudyard why are you gathering intel on _them_?”

“It just so happens that while you were out following after Superman like a lost puppy, I’ve been doing my job.” Rudyard snarled swiping the files out of Chapman’s hands. “One of the key members, Seymour Prophitte, had been hiding here on Piffling since Superman showed up - something about greater security. Anyways Antigone informed me he’s just been killed, stabbed to death by a waitress he groped. Editor Desmond says I need to get his obit in the paper immediately, it could bring in top sales and be a huge boost for my career. I have to get the story in the paper in the stands on time!”

“Why would you think _I_ know anything or have anything to do with the Prophitte crime family of all things?”

“It seemed like something you would know about, you know with your fancy and prestigious London journalism awards that you won’t let anyone around here forget about. Something so ridiculously high profile seems right up your Conveniently Deserted Alley.”

“I swear you _live_ to offend me Rudyard, you’re going to have to be more careful if you’re going up against the Prophitte’s. I’m sure they're a lot less forgiving then I am about reporters who can’t control their mouths.”

“I resent that Chapman! I know there’s something shady about you, you can’t hide it from me forever!”

“Go back to work Rudyard.” Chapman snapped back. “You’re much better with the dead then you ever were with the living.”

He watched Rudyard sputter out unintelligible sentences, apparently too flustered and angry to form any actual words, before Georgie showed up.

“What’s going on here?” Georgie said, more a statement then a question.

“Oh hello Georgie! Rudyard and I were just catching up, swapping stories about our articles…” Chapman smiled, “But I think he was just leaving to get back to work, weren't you Rudyard?”

Rudyard glared at Chapman’s fake smile before storming off in a huff that caused many to look up from their computers to see what the fuss was about.

“Such a drama queen…” Georgie sighed as she watched Rudyard fume out of the room, “Oh well, catch you later Eric.”

“Oh Georgie actually…!” Chapman started, but Georgie had already left before he could ask her to get coffee.

_Probably for the best I guess,_ Chapman thought to himself, _can’t be sleeping around the office no matter how fascinating the person is…_

*** 

As weeks passed and deadlines came and went, Chapman noticed Rudyard’s desk get more and more cluttered with photos of Seymour Prophitte. God knows where he had gotten them, as Rudyard hadn’t spoken with Chapman since the first time he brought Prophitte up, which was perfectly fine by him. While Chapman admired the man’s dedication and resilience, he couldn’t help the feeling of dread and - what was that, _worry?_ \- that crept up every time he walked passed Rudyard’s desk to find him buried in files and photographs of one of the sons of the most dangerous crime families in the UK.

Which was ridiculous, because why would he be worried about _Rudyard_ of all people? He hated Rudyard, with his rude remarks and ugly sweater vests and devastatingly defined bone structure.

So honestly, he could have been more surprised when he heard Rudyard yelling from the roof of the Piffling Vale Journal, 5 floors above where he was currently sitting at his desk. He looked around to see if anyone else had heard it, before deciding it was probably his super hearing doing him a favour and racing up to the roof. When he got there, he found Rudyard surrounded by a group of 4 huge, burly men and one shorter, stouter man behind them. He managed to hide on the side of the cement structure that contain the stairs down to the rest of the building, close enough to hear the conversation without being seen by Rudyard or the other - arguably more frightening - people on the roof. 

“Don’t lie to me boy,” the short man rasped, “no one kills one of my sons and gets away with it.”

“Please Mr. Prophitte,” Rudyard begged, “I had absolutely nothing to do with your son’s disappearance and death. I was merely doing research for an obituary…”

“You were poking your nose in where it didn’t belong.” Mr. Prophitte spat out. “All for some bloody newspaper article. No reporter has yet to expose our business because no reporter has ever dared. I guess I’ll just have to make you an example so that this doesn't happen again.”

A wave of panic rushed through Chapman as he ripped open his dress shirt to reveal his Superman costume. He quickly removed his glasses and the rest of his work clothes and managed to swoop in right as two of Mr. Prophitte’s body guards picked up Rudyard and threw him off the edge of the 20 story building.

He caught Rudyard with ease about 5 stories down, though Rudyard kept screaming long after he had him in his arms. By the time his feet touched the ground of the roof however, he had mostly calmed down and was just hyperventilating slightly. Chapman used the handcuffs in the bodyguard’s pockets (thanks, x-ray vision) to handcuff them as well as Mr. Prophitte to some piping on the roof before using his direct line to the police captain to let him know he had a key member of the Prophitte crime family and some goons in custody. He had almost forgotten Rudyard was there until he tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey Superman?”

“Yes Mr. Funn?”

“Listen,” Rudyard started looking less shaken then he probably should have been, “if ever you come across a bloke named Eric Chapman-“

Chapman almost choked instead of inhaling. 

“You can tell him that in response to the last thing he said to me, talking to the dead is a lot less infuriating then talking to him. At least the dead respect me enough not to go out of their way to try and ruin my life.” Rudyard smirked, seemingly pleased with his comeback.

Chapman was speechless for a moment.

“You… You were falling to your death,” Chapman said hesitantly, “And all you could think about was getting that last word? Is winning an argument _really_ that important to you?

“You don't know Eric Chapman mate…”

And oh, wasn’t that ironic.

“Thanks for the lift though!” Rudyard called over his shoulder, before making his way to the door to get back into the building. He gave Chapman a tight smile before descending down the steps, presumably back to his desk.

*** 

Chapman didn't know why that encounter affected him so much. Superman saved people on the daily, getting kittens out of trees and stopping terrorist attacks… Sure, it wasn’t everyday he saved someone he worked with, someone he knew as Eric Chapman, but even that had happened before and hadn’t been this weird.

No, it was something about Rudyard. For weeks, he couldn’t put his finger on it, until he met eyes with Rudyard in the halls of the Journal. Rudyard’s eyes went narrow, his lips went thin - but instead of the usual grimace, the corner of his mouth turned up and his eyes had a glint of amusement. 

Just like they did on the roof that night as he told Superman his stupid comeback.

The last thing Rudyard had thought about before falling to his presumed death wasn’t Superman like it was for most people. It wasn’t begging to be saved by him, or regrets for never meeting him… Hell Rudyard, didn’t even think about his family or friends (who knew, maybe he had some somewhere…)

Rudyard Funn, falling to his death, thought of Eric Chapman. Once Chapman came to this realization, he couldn't keep it out of his brain. 

He started looking at Rudyard differently. Their usual banter started back up again, and Chapman found it was more fun than annoying now - seeing how far he could push Rudyard. Admiring the way his eyebrows would raise and chin would lift if he said something he thought was clever, or how his mouth would hang open and a brilliant scarlet blush would backdrop his freckles if Chapman had a clever comeback to match…

But Chapman noticed a switch in Rudyard’s behaviour too. Because of his obituary on Seymour Prophitte, he had been promoted to a reporter and his first story was a recount of his first hand experience with the Prophitte’s - and with Superman. As a matter of fact, Rudyard’s blasé attitude towards Superman melted away after the whole incident as he became more and more interested in Superman’s whereabouts and goings-on. There was one time in the hallway where he bumped into Rudyard and _literally hundreds_ of photos of Superman tumbled out of his arms and onto the floor. He offered to help pick them up, but Rudyard swatted his gestures away with challenging eyes and an intensely red face.

And as much as the look he had when he was deep in thought and focused on a task - the one where his nose scrunched up and his eyebrows creased together and his lips twisted - gave Chapman a strange butterfly sensation in his stomach, it would not do for Rudyard to get too close to the secrets Superman was hiding.

So predictably, the pent up stress residing in both of them turned into one of their famous yelling matches.

“Rudyard, why can’t you just let me do my _job?_ Last time I checked _I_ was the lead reporter on the Superman stories at this newspaper, not you.”

“Well you haven't been doing a very good job on it have you? No first hand accounts, no interviews, not even a glimpse as to who the real man might be… Plus, Mr. Desmond says with the rising number of incidents taking place, two reporters might be better suited for covering him - so yes, Chapman, the days of you stealing my spotlight are _long gone!”_

“Why do you even care about Superman anyways? He doesn’t strike me as your type of story…”

“Trust me, he’s my type." 

“What?”

“Nothing, he’s gross and I hate him. Look Chapman, it’s time to face the formaldehyde-“

“Ew.”

“-I am going to get an interview and find out who that man is behind the symbol, and there is nothing you and your dorky glasses can do about it. And when I do find out, I’m going to tell it right to his beautifully chiseled face.”

“WHAT?”

“WHAT? NOTHING SHUT UP!” Ruydard practically screamed before taking a breath and shuddering out “Oh god I’m turning into Antigone…”

Chapman sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay first of all Rudyard, these glasses are Dior and cost more than your entire ensemble put together. And secondly, you used to run the obituary until a few weeks ago. What makes you think you are good enough to cover a story as high-profile as Superman’s secret identity?”

“We will see Chapman,” Rudyard chuckled, “We will see.”

He turned around and walked back to his desk before he could get another word in. Chapman wiped his face with his hands before looking around and noticing almost the entire staff of the Piffling Vale Journal looking at him with curious if not exasperated amusement. Chapman quickly ran to the men’s room, wishing his alien biology had excluded the ability to blush.


	2. Chapter 2

Rudyard Funn hated Eric Chapman.

He hated Chapman more than anyone he had ever met, and that was saying quite a bit seeing as he wasn’t particularly fond of everyone else on this island either. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was about the man that made Rudyard hate him so much, but Rudyard could only assume it was a mix of the pretentious way he carried himself and his fake modesty. The way he poked and prodded his way into Piffling, dazzling everyone with his awards and recommendations… And the fact that everyone else that he worked with were practically as infatuated with him as they were with Superman.

It also could possibly be the stupid butterflies he got in his stomach every time Chapman smiled and shook his head at something Rudyard said. Or the pain in his chest when Chapman would compliment his perseverance with a new article. Or the heat that would spread across his face and down to his lower stomach every time Chapman stood up to stretch, his shirt coming untucked to reveal a sliver of skin and impressively toned abdominals before sitting down and tucking it back in. Yes, there were certainly lots of things Rudyard hated about Chapman.

He hated the fact that he was possibly falling in love with him.

Not that he could _ever_ give Chapman the satisfaction of knowing that, however. No, it was easy enough to replace his intense feelings of arousal with intense feelings of anger - which managed to keep up their rows at least so that no one else (especially Chapman) would suspect he had even an inkling of pleasant feelings towards the man. Superman he’d had a crush on for ages, which was fine seeing as he’d only met him the one time and had managed to keep his cool (for the most part) and the fact that he was way, _way_ out of Rudyard’s league. But Chapman - Chapman sent a whole new breed of feelings through him…

In any case, it wasn't anything that Rudyard had the time to focus on right now. With his new promotion to an actual reporter he was being kept extremely busy, using all this spare time to visit Antigone in the mortuary now that they didn’t have as much business to discuss. He found that being away from his sister actually brought the two closer than when they were working together, as neither of them were competing to get their voices heard and each had their own separate profession now. If you had told Rudyard a year ago that the biggest thing he would look forward to during the week was spending a day with his sister, he would have accused you of drinking embalming fluid. 

Chatting with her, though still full of witty banter and playful teasing, was actually quite nice now. Surprisingly, she was actually qualified to give dating advice to him seeing as she was dating his boss’s assistant Georgie. That not only gave him a friend at the office, but something to talk to Antigone about. He was happy for his sister, seeing her eyes light up as she talked about a gorgeous date Georgie took her on or even the way she made her tea perfectly - but it scared Rudyard that he might look the exact same way when talking about Superman, or possibly even Chapman.

In any case, weekends with Antigone were the light at the end of a tunnel filled with paperwork and journalism. As much as Rudyard loved his new position as a reporter as opposed to just running the obituaries, he certainly underestimated how difficult it was going to be. He found it difficult to interview people or get comments on events that had happened, as Rudyard was not always the most pleasant person to talk to on any given day. If he were to be honest, most of the comments he received were “Sod off!”, “What’s the press doing here?”, “How dare you?”, or “Leave me this instant you awful little man!”, the last of which being extremely ironic given his 6’4” stature.

He also never seemed to be in the loop when anything was happening. Of course, bloody perfect Eric Chapman _always_ knew when a bank heist would take place and Superman would swoop in, so of course he got the story and all the praise that comes with it. And though Chapman had offered to help him and even offered to give Rudyard some of his articles asking for no credit, he could never accept pity stories from his rival. He definitely never wanted to say yes, because if he's not going to make it as a reporter, he's not going to make it. There’s nothing that flawless, gorgeous, intelligent, outgoing, _perfect_ man can do that Rudyard can’t.

So that’s how he ends up with possibly the most boring story on the entire island, if not all of Britain.

“So, err, what was your name again? Harriet?”

“It’s Hetty” Hetty deadpanned, having been asked this question multiple times already.

“Right Hetty of course,” Rudyard shuffled his papers together to make it look like he was doing something, “When did you first implement this wonderful cafe?”

“Right, well, the site has been a cafe for a while, managed but a bunch of different owners…” Hetty started, “but I took it over about 6 months ago and business at the Sharp Drop has been booming ever since." 

“Why is it called the Sharp Drop?” 

“Why is that important…?”

“Sure never mind then,” Rudyard said cutting off the tail end of Hetty’s question, wanting to move the interview along as fast as possible. “What are some of the most popular menu items?”

“Oh! Would you like to try something?” Hetty cried, mood radically switching for annoyance to excitement. “Everyone loves the Hetticino!”

“I’m sure they do… But I’ll just stick with a tea if you don't mind.”

“Of course just let me get that for you, don’t move a muscle!” Hetty called walking away to prepare his tea.

 _God this interview could not end fast enough,_ Rudyard thought looking out the cafe window into the square below, _she’s possibly more insufferable that Chapman. Or, in any case, much more boring._

His thought process was interrupted by a mug being placed under his nose and Hetty coming around to sit again in the seat opposite to him. They stared at each other in confused silence for a couple of moments before Hetty looked down at his tea and then back up at him expectantly. 

“Oh, err, right…” Rudyard awkwardly took a sip of his tea, and struggled not to spit it at or around Hetty’s face once the taste hit his tongue.

“Nope, nope, nope,” He took a napkin and tried to run it over his tongue cleaning the taste from his mouth, “Don’t like that. I don’t like that at all.”

“What do you mean you don’t like it?” Hetty questioned defensively.

“I don’t like it! It tastes like books.”

“It’s Red Bush!”

“It’s rub-bish…” 

They both stared at each other for a longer while, Hetty seething and Rudyard trying to keep a smirk at bay. When he ultimately failed and the laughter bubbled up from inside him, he had to duck out of the way from a flying tea saucer aimed for his head. 

“You don’t understand what it’s like!” Hetty screamed at him, “No one trusts cafe’s these days, even if there _are_ Australians in them!”

“What?”

“Listen Mr. Funn, we’ve got art on the walls, the sandwiches are bigger, my doilies have become ironic-“

“ _What?_ ”

“-frankly, we don’t need your kind of press. I don’t give you permission to use anything I’ve said here for an article, or to write an article about the cafe at all. Now do us all a favour, and get out of my cafe.”

Before Rudyard could give a classic smartass retort, the front of the Sharp Drop was suddenly covered in a baby pink substance that started to dissolve through the walls and really was that _icing-_  

“Where is Superman?!” A voice bellowed from the outside of the cafe and Rudyard ran out to check out that the commotion was all about.

“…Jerry?” Rudyard shouted up to the man’s head poking out of the giant robot currently destroying the square. “Is that you?”

“…Rudyard?” Jerry shouted back as a giant pastry popped out of the oven at the centre of the robot. “Oh mate it’s good to see you!”

“Yeah man it’s been ages! What have you been up to?”

“Oh just the usual, I’m a super villain now! My name is the Breadmaster, and I am going to be the one to kill Superman!

“Wow lots has changed since college I guess…” Rudyard had to think fast if he was going to talk Jerry down from his super villain antics, anything to repay Superman for saving his life.

“Listen Jerry, you don’t want to do this! You don’t want to hurt anyone!”

“You don't know what I want!” Jerry bellowed. “You have no idea what Superman’s done to me, and this whole island will pay for it - including you!”

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“Goodbye Rudyard!” Jerry cried as he removed the pastry from the oven embedded in his robotic belly. Rudyard knew immediately what it was - a cherry bomb.

Rudyard braced for impact, knowing there was nowhere to run and no way to escape. _Unbelievable,_ Rudyard though, _you escape falling from a building just to die from a bomb a month later this is just my luck._

He thought of Antigone and Georgie, and his pet mouse Madeline waiting for him back at his apartment… And Chapman, _boy_ did he think of Chapman. 

Suddenly however, his thought process was halted. Not by the immediate combustion of all the atoms in his body, but instead by a car suddenly being in front of him, a ringing in his ears, and a very solid body on top of his.

Rudyard’s mind stopped when he recognized the sky blue eyes of one Eric Chapman mere inches away from his. Though Chapman’s glasses had been thrown off somewhere in the explosion, Rudyard would know those eyes anywhere. The adrenaline pumping through his body just made him more aware of Chapman’s muscular biceps that he was currently gripping and the weight of his torso and thighs pressing closely against his.

“Are you alright?” Chapman whispered. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Rudyard tried to play it cool (or at least, the same amount of cool as he usually was) but all he wanted to do was reach up and smooth the worry line between Eric’s eyebrows and pull him impossibly closer. Erm, platonically of course. 

But as Jerry (or the Breadmaster now) kept bellowing and throwing bombs, much to Rudyard’s dismay Chapman bolted up away from him and surveyed the surrounding area. This was surprising, as the man claimed to have terrible vision without the thick lenses of his glasses there to assist him, and Rudyard couldn’t imagine he could see much of anything through the debris even if he _did_ have his glasses on. Funnily enough, Rudyard didn't think he had ever seen Chapman without his glasses. It was a strange sight certainly, he looked like a completely different person. 

A very, very recognizable different person. The realization hit Rudyard so hard he couldn't fathom why he hadn’t seen it before.

Eric Chapman was Superman.

Everything that happened after that moment was a blur. Looking back on it, Rudyard vaguely remembered Eric running off and Superman arriving right after (suspicious one could say, honestly how nobody figured it out before him would always be a mystery.) He remembered running off to his apartment to process what was happening, pushing through other people also running away from the catastrophe. He remembers going home and sitting on his old makeshift couch, Madeline on his shoulder, and ignoring calls from his sister and Georgie.. Hell, even Chapman was calling him, despite him never giving away his number. 

All that was running through his mind was _Eric Chapman is Superman Eric Chapman is Superman Eric Chapman is Superman Eric Chapman is Superman Eric Chapman is Superman…_

*** 

Of course it was Rudyard’s luck that the first thing that happened when he walked into work the next day was bumping into - who would’ve guessed it - Chapman.

“Oh hello Rudyard,” Eric said, adjusting his glasses, “recovering alright from yesterday? You didn't pick up any of my calls… I hope you don't mind I got your number from Georgie.” 

Rudyard stayed silent as opposed to throwing back a snarky comment as he would normally, which seemed to throw Chapman off. Man, if he had only known this was the way to make Chapman uncomfortable he would have done it _ages_ ago.

“That sure was crazy, wasn’t it? I was just getting coffee at the new cafe the Sharp drop - have you heard of it?”

“Vaguely”

“Yeah its pretty good…” Chapman said, obviously trying to make the conversation less awkward than it already was. It seemed the two men didn't know how to talk to each other when they weren’t arguing. “Either way, who knew _Jerry_ of all people would turn into a super villain?”

“Indeed,” Rudyard said narrowing his eyes at Chapman, “It’s certainly a good thing Superman was there…”

“Right,” Chapman said with a nervous laugh, “Of course. Superman. Hey speaking of I just now handed in my story on the attack, I was surprised you didn't submit one yourself actually.”

“Well I just didn’t have the first hand experience that you did I guess.”

“Rudyard,” Eric said slowly, the stupid crease in his brow starting to appear again making Rudyard want to put his thumb there and smooth it out and _God what was he thinking?_

“We were both there… Right? You and me, we both witnessed the same attack. What do you mean you don't have the first hand experience?”

“Uh,” Rudyard stuttered out gracefully, “Yes, right, obviously… I’m actually going to go do that. Er, write the article I mean. Thank you… Chapman.”

Rudyard left the dumbfounded Eric behind as he ran to his desk, vague whispers of “ _did he just_ thank _Chapman?_ ” floating by his ears as he plopped down in his seat and put his head in his hands. Why hadn't he told anyone that Eric Chapman was Superman? It was the perfect revenge to outsmart his rival: not only get the Superman story that had always seemed to elude him, but also out him to the world and see the downfall of his journalism career?  

But maybe that was the thing - he didn't want to see the end of Chapman’s career. He could have confronted him there and then about being Superman, but instead he ran away to hide in his cubicle. And why? So he could keep working with him. As much as Rudyard hated to admit it, he liked talking with Chapman even when most of their conversations were them arguing with each other. He liked seeing Chapman run his hand through his thick blonde hair and mess it up when he was frustrated, and smooth it out when he was nervous. He liked the stupid suits he wore, he liked his stupid shoes, and more than anything he liked Chapman’s stupid glasses that hid his most valuable secret. He liked that the two people he was infatuated with were actually the same person. 

He did not hate Eric Chapman, in fact, he was uncontrollably and unequivocally in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I hate Superman!" Rudyard says as hundreds of photos of Superman spill out of his pockets


	3. Chapter 3

Eric Chapman’s day started off like any other, excluding possibly the bomb that was sitting on the top of his desk.

But it’s possible that could be normal for him now too, it was getting hard to tell.

When he strolled into work this morning, there was a neatly wrapped present sitting beside his keyboard waiting for him. He picked it up and inspected it, before looking and seeing a tag taped to the ribbon. “ _Love Majorie xoxo_ ” was written in neat, curly script and when he went to look inside with his X-ray vision, what he found was an explosive covered in neatly coiled wires connecting to a timer that read less than 15 minutes and counting.

 _Of course it was Majorie,_ Chapman thought as he hastily grabbed the box (though careful not to handle it too roughly and prematurely set off the explosive), _because enough weird thing’s weren’t already happening in my life and I need her being back to spice things up obviously._ How she got out of her jail cell in London and managed to make it all the way back to Piffling undetected was a mystery, as was how she snuck into the building and placed the present there. This present also meant that his biggest rival (sorry Rudyard) had somehow figured out his secret identity, which was not good at all. This meant everyone in his life was in danger, or more so in danger than they were before.

How was he just now finding out about her escape? How come no one was looking for her? How could she have hired goons so quick? These were all questions running through Chapman’s mind as he himself ran to the stairs heading to the roof of the building. He almost made it to the stairwell before he crashed into someone walking the opposite direction, and was met with a face full of black curls and paper.

“Oi mate, watch where you're going!” Rudyard said rubbing his shoulder before looking up to see who had bumped into him. “Oh, Chapman of course. Only you could be so clumsy…”

“Yes I’m sure you’re right Rudyard, now if you just let me through…”

“Wait, _what?_ No something’s wrong here. You just told me,” Rudyard said pointing to himself, “that I was right when I insulted you. This must be pretty serious you would never in your right mind do that, so what’s going on?”

“Nothing Rudyard, now if you’ll please-“

“-wait what’s this?” Rudyard asked ripping the present out of Chapman’s hand before he could stop him, “Ohhh Chapman! Is this what’s got you all in a tiff? Do you have a new secret admirer? What did they get you this time - chocolates? Something even more disgustingly sweet?”

“RUDYARD STOP NO!” Chapman cried swiping back the present with the force only a Kryptonian would have before clearing his throat, “I would love to stay and chat about romance but I really, _really_ do not have time for this right now. I have to go.”

Chapman sped past Rudyard, leaving him with a astonished expression. It wasn’t often Chapman lost his cool, and Rudyard surely would have a field day trying to work out who could have made him as flustered as he was, but he had more pressing matters to attend to.

He ran up the stairs not thinking about the way Rudyard’s hair had fallen into his eyes when he’d bumped into him.  He threw open the door to the roof not thinking about the gleam in Rudyard’s eyes and the slight smirk he had given as he walked away. As he ripped open his shirt to reveal his Superman uniform, he _definitely_ did not think about how Rudyard would look doing the exact same thing in different circumstances. And as he flew off the roof of the Piffling Journal and threw the bomb out of the planet's atmosphere, he found that he couldn’t help but think about the way his heart started racing when he say Rudyard’s dexterous fingers toy with the ribbon on the bomb, and the consequences of it going off in his hands. 

For the next few weeks, his mind kept coming back to that image of Rudyard unknowingly holding the bomb. Every time he saw Rudyard sitting blissfully unaware of how close he came to being destroyed, he felt a pull at his chest and slightly sick despite there being no Kryptonite around. This caused Rudyard to give him many strange looks, to which he would respond by nervously running his hand through his hair and giving him a small smile, which made Rudyard’s strange look intensify until one of them got so weirded out by the amount of genuine feelings in their interactions that they would look away.

What could he say? Majorie was on the rise again though there was no new threats since the bomb, no one knew how she got out of prison or where she was, _and_ she knew his secret identity jeopardizing everyone. He was infinitely more stressed than the average reporter, which was why he didn't find it surprising when Georgie asked him to meet her in her office. He figured it was just a checkup to see how he was feeling, hopefully even a few days break if he could milk the anxiety - giving him time to fully devote himself to finding Majorie. However, he was not even slightly prepared for what she had in store.

“I know your secret.” Georgie deadpanned as she shut the door to her office and took a seat at her desk. Completely blown away, Chapman stood by the door still processing, thoughts running around in his mind about as fast as he could run around the earth. _How did Georgie find out I was Superman? Am I that obvious? Was it the bomb incident? Was it-_

“Take a seat, won’t you Eric?” Georgie gestured at the chairs across from her desk. Chapman put a shaky hand on the arm of the chair before deflating into it, not breaking eye contact with Georgie. 

“How-“ Chapman started in a shaky voice before clearing his throat, “-how did you know? I mean, how did you figure it out?”

“Pretty obvious innit? Specially in these past couple weeks…”

“I knew it. I knew it was what happened last-“ 

“-I mean if you could only see the way you two look at each other…” 

“-I really didn't me-“ Chapman stopped and shook his head to clear his thoughts, “-wait, what?” 

“You and Rudyard…?”

“Oh, er,” Chapman rubbed the back of his neck as Georgie looked at him quizzically with a raised eyebrow, “Right that… I’m so embarrassed that you had to find out, but I can assure you there’s nothing happening - I mean, I know it would be unprofessional and-“

“-no no nothing like that at all Eric.” Georgie stated. “In fact on the contrary. Would you _please_ make a move and just tell him how you feel and stop doing this stupid mutual pining thing you guys have been doing?”

Chapman stared at her in awe.

“I know feelings are hard for you boys or whatever but dude, I cannot _stand_ to hear Rudyard talk about you all the time it is _so_ draining and I’m over it so would you _please_ man up?”

“Rudyard…” Chapman started hesitantly, “Rudyard talks about me?”

“Rudyard never _shuts up_ about you,” Georgie said missing Chapman’s intense blush in her own annoyance, “I swear, you boys need to get your heads out of your asses and into each others and just start fucking so we can _all_ get some rest from the sheer amounts of unresolved sexual tension in this office.”

“ _What?_ No that’s-I mean, I would _never_ -well, er, no I-“ Chapman stuttered out before being immediately silenced by Georgie’s arching eyebrow being raised to superhuman heights.  

“Right well, I guess I should be going,” Chapman said attempting to compose himself and gracefully exit the room, “I’ll do my best to, erm, man up I guess. Thank you, Georgie.” 

“No problem!” She replied cheerily. Right before he placed his hand on the doorknob and leave her office, Georgie quickly but nonchalantly added “also Eric, I know you’re Superman.” 

If Chapman was physically able to faint, he would’ve done it right then.

***

“I love you.” 

Still doesn’t feel right.

“I _love_ you.”

Not quite.

“Rudyard, I’ve been in love with you since the first moment you opened your mouth as crazy as that is and I would give anything to push you up against the wall of your cubicle and-“

Chapman ran a hand through his hair and stared at his reflection once more. _Get a grip._

“We can’t do this. I can’t tell you why, and it’s killing me because I love you more than I’ve loved anything in this life, but I have a responsibility. To this island, to these people, and to you. I’m sorry. I love you.”

Chapman splashed cold water on his face before starting his before-work morning routine. Today is the day, he’s decided: the day he tells Rudyard how he really feels underneath all of the callous words and heated arguments. It was quite possibly the scariest thing Chapman had done in his life. He would take another baker-themed super-villain any day over talking about his feelings - especially his feelings for Rudyard.

On his way to work, he couldn't stop thinking over all the possibilities of how this confession could end. The brutal sting of rejection would be devastating, but not all that surprising. No, the worst situation Chapman could think of was if Rudyard felt the same way and as deeply as Chapman felt. They could never be together - Chapman could never tell Rudyard he was Superman, and the idea of Rudyard getting hurt because of him was to much to think about. He was fated to be alone - it was the cost of the superpowers he had been given.

He walked up to his desk and glanced over at the adjacent cubicle where Rudyard was usually hard at work. His coat was draped over his chair and his bag was shoved carelessly onto his desk, but Rudyard wasn't there. Chapman looked around quickly, ignoring the knowing looks of his coworkers, wondering where Rudyard could have wandered off to. He assumed Rudyard had just made a trip to the toilets, but after 20 minutes he still wasn’t back. Chapman got out of his chair and walked over to Rudyard’s desk as inconspicuously as he could (which wasn’t very, as it seemed like everyone’s eyes were on him).

Rudyard’s desk was a complete mess - as usual. Chapman looked around at all the pictures of Superman on the desk, and then his eyes drifted up to the beginnings of new stories and old ones that had done particularly well tacked up on the wall of his cubicle. He picked up the only framed picture on the desk - a photograph of Rudyard and a woman he assumed was his sister. They seemed to be slightly younger, possibly when they both were working at his sister’s funeral home together; because though they looked at each other with tight lips and tense jaws, there was an obvious air of mischief in their eyes even someone without X-ray vision could see.

Chapman ran a finger gently around the edge of the frame before bringing it to Rudyard’s black and white cheekbone. He then felt like he was being invasive, so he quickly put the photograph down and looked around to make sure no one had seen him fondling the photo. In his haste, however, he managed to knock some files from his desk. Before he could go and pick them up, he saw something out of place on Rudyard’s desk that caused his stomach to churn even more than it had been already.

A present. Neatly wrapped, nearly identical to the parcel that had carried the bomb over a month ago.

Majorie.

Chapman quickly X-rayed the present to check, but to his surprise there was no bomb inside. Instead, a piece of incredibly expensive and in Chapman’s opinion, quite pretentious stationary with a note written in curly and impeccably practiced script.

_I have your precious reporter boyfriend. If you want him to annoy another day, fly yourself to the roof of City Hall at midnight tonight. If not, Rudyard Funn ends up in his funeral home again, though under wildly different circumstances then he left it._

Shit.

***

By the time midnight rolled around, Chapman had already flown around the town 20 times, X-rayed it 5, and ran the street grid once looking for any sign of Rudyard or Majorie. He mostly, however, just sat in his apartment with his head in his hands staring at the clock and trying to will the arms to move faster. He tried not to think about Rudyard, and he failed. He tried not to think about what those glorious cheekbones would look like splattered with blood, or how his eyes would look no longer gleaming with life, or his long limbs bent at strange angles lying on the floor. Because those were all images Chapman had seen Majorie create, but with Rudyard as her muse there was no telling the new horrors she could conjure.

He tried not to think about Rudyard. All of the could-haves and would-haves that could possibly be thrown away after tonight. He tried not to think about what could have been between them, and he failed.

Chapman arrived at the City Hall roof fully decked in his Superman gear at exactly 11:59. He saw Rudyard bound in Kryptonite chains to a chair, a video camera set on him and multiple TV screens surrounding the set up. Majorie was sat behind the camera, working on a computer-like machine Chapman would have to guess is for cutting into broadcasting frequencies if he knows anything about Majorie. And, unsurprisingly, he found them both yelling at each other. 

“Honestly woman, all of this is utterly ridiculous. If you think Superman would ever come for _me_ you’re crazier than I thought. I’ve only met him once, he saved me like he saves everyone else it’s not like we see each other every day or anything…”

“We’ll see, Mr. Funn.”

Chapman swooped in as dramatically as he possibly can, trying to intimidate Majorie and cutting short Rudyard’s 5th “ _really,_ can’t I just go home?!” retort as he grabbed both his and Majorie’s attention.

“Ahhh, Superman!” Majorie said with her signature wicked grin. “You’re right on time.” 

“Superman!” Rudyard gasped, “What are you _doing_ here?”

Chapman shot Rudyard a questioning look, trying to hide his intense relief at the fact that Rudyard was still alive and relatively uninjured.

“I mean don’t get me wrong, I don't think I can handle another moment listening to her prattle on about her stupid fancy pen collection,” Rudyard glared at Majorie, “But that doesn’t mean you still shouldn’t be here.” 

“There’s a citizen in danger, where else would I be?” Chapman said, trying to sound as confident as he felt terrified, the Kryptonite present already affecting him.

“My god,” Majorie cut in, “He doesn’t know who you really are, does he Superman?”

Chapman has to physically restrain himself from using his heat vision to melt that stupid smirk off her face, and in this misses the way Rudyard rolls his eyes and huffs.

“Well, as heartwarming as this all is,” Majorie cries happily clapping her hands together, “we have business to attend to.”

Chapman watched her walk around to Rudyard. She ran a hand through his hair and Chapman felt sick watching him squirm away from her long fingers.

“This is what’s going to happen,” Majorie began, “as you can see, I’ve stolen some of the broadcasting equipment from Piffling News, as well as some hardware that I designed. When I flip this switch, the whole island will have the Superman insider scoop on every channel available. Mr. Funn here has been a wonderful opening act for my viewers, but it’s time to give the people what they want.”

Majorie reached behind her back and pulled a rifle out of the waistband of her pantsuit. Why hadn’t he seen that? Why hadn’t he X-rayed her for a weapon the moment his feet touched the ground? _Stupid Eric, you can’t let the fact that Rudyard’s life is in danger distract you from doing your damn job._

“You are going to stand in front of this camera, and tell the world your real name. In your shame at having to reveal your secret identity, you will also hand over your key to the city to me, giving me unrestricted power to control the island. Then everyone will know who you really are, and finally there will be order in this town. My order.”

“And why do you think I would ever do that Majorie?” 

“You know why.”

“I want to hear you say it.” Chapman all but snarled.

“Very well,” Majorie said clicking the safety off her gun and loading it, “If you do not do as I say, I stick a Kryptonite bullet in Mr. Rudyard Funn’s head. I’m pretty sure even you can’t stop those Superman.” 

Chapman looks over to Rudyard, who had beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his temples. He could vaguely hear Rudyard shouting at him not to give in, but it sounded like it was coming from a million miles away, or from underwater. They locked eyes - Rudyard’s desperate and Chapman’s decisive.

“I’ll do it Majorie.” He said turning to face the woman's wicked grin. “Just-just set it up. Get it over with.”

“Wow, I never thought I’d see the day you stutter.” Majorie smirked, beginning to turn on the array of different machines at her disposal. “Good ol’ headstrong overconfident Superman, finally broken.”

Chapman couldn’t meet Rudyard’s eyes again, instead choosing to maintain eye contact with the video camera lens. He wondered if Rudyard would still be able to face him knowing who he truly was - it was foolish to think Rudyard would completely accept him, but hopefully the taller man could stomach the sight of him just enough to give him the chance to say goodbye.

Where could he go now? By tomorrow the whole world would know who he is, will see his face. The glasses were a good enough disguise, but with his image (glasses and no glasses) plastered onto every television and newspaper on the globe there will be no where he can fade - no more normal life.

 _Perhaps this is the epitome of what love is,_ thought Eric, _giving up one’s entire life for the sake of another. This is how I tell him._

It was the sound of helicopter blades that finally pulled him out of his reverie, just in time as Majorie had just finished setting up the final touches on the broadcasting equipment. Rudyard shook in his chair, seemingly unaware of the sound - still completely focused on Superman. 

“What the…” Majorie almost whispered looking up, as a rope swung down from the helicopter.  

“Eat shit Majorie Smith!” Georgie yelled, jumping from the rope and onto Majorie’s chest, knocking the wind out of her once she hit the ground. “No one messes with the Funn’s without going through me.”

Chapman saw this opportunity to grab the gun out of Majorie’s waistband, melting the metal contraption in his hands. This left him briefly exposed to the Kryptonite bullet, and he felt a wave of nausea and pain pour through him. He dropped to the ground and waited for the next wave, but he instead felt a hand grab the Kryptonite out of his and he watched as Rudyard Funn did his best to throw the bullet off the building roof despite his incredibly gangly arms - and the fact that he’d just been released from the Kryptonite chains that had kept hostage for the better part of a day.

Chapman turned to Georgie, who was doing her best to keep a thrashing Majorie restrained. With the alien metal gone and Chapman restored to his full strength, he took Majorie’s wrists before picking her up altogether and taking off from the roof. The trip to Piffling jail felt like a lifetime for Chapman, but knowing his flying speeds was probably only a few seconds before he all but threw Majorie at the guards and flew back to the roof. Trusting them to contain her now that she was defenceless, he thought only of Rudyard as he flew back to the roof.

When he got there, Rudyard was sitting up against the unused broadcasting system being tended to by a woman Chapman assumed to be his sister.

“Where’s G-I mean, where’s the woman that saved me?” Chapman coughed through his mistake, not wanting either party to know he knew who Georgie was. “I just want to thank her properly.”

“Oh Georgie?” Antigone replied. “She’s in the helicopter again. Heavy machinery is not exactly my forte, the less time I spend behind the wheel of that monstrosity the better.”

“Ah I see, well, give her my thanks when you see her I guess.”

“I will Superman.” Antigone said, looking dreamily up at the hovering helicopter. “She’s great at saving people.” 

“Is he-“ Chapman started, before deciding to turn to Rudyard himself, “Are you okay?”

“Who, me?” Rudyard said, obviously trying to act more put-together than he felt. “Never felt better!”

Rudyard ran a hand through his hair nervously, revealing deep bruises and cuts down his entire forearm from the chains and ropes he had been kept in all day. Chapman reached out and took his wrist, holding it as gingerly and tenderly as possible and specifically not meeting his eyes.

“I’m sorry I brought you into this Rudyard.” Chapman said still looking at his arm. “It’s dangerous for me to be here and for you to be seen with me and I… I should just go.”

Chapman let go of Rudyard’s arm and turned around, taking off from the roof and flying back to his apartment. He used his super hearing to scan the city for any more signs of trouble, but what he heard instead caused him to almost fall out of the sky.

“Dammit…” Rudyard all but whispered. “Eric Chapman, you self sacrificing idiot.”

***

Chapman had been dreading Monday morning all weekend, even more so than usual as going back to work meant seeing Rudyard again. Normally this was the only reason he _didn't_ dread Monday’s, but knowing now that Rudyard knew who he really was - he didn't know how he was a going to be able to face him. Every time Chapman closed his eyes he could see Rudyard bound in those Kryptonite chains, the look on his face when Chapman said he would tell the world his identity, and him throwing the Kryptonite bullet off the roof.  

How did he _know?_ What tipped him off? Would he tell anyone?

Those questions rudely popped back into his head as he saw Antigone drop Rudyard off at the front of the building. Already in the lift, Chapman rapidly pressed the “Doors Close” button willing it to respond faster. Just as the lift doors started to close, Rudyard met his eyes. The look was hard to read, and only lasted a fraction of a second before the doors closed, but it still caused Chapman to have to lean against the side of the lift and catch his breath. _You’re acting like a child Eric,_ he thought to himself, _you’re in a professional setting and you need to get yourself together._

He spent the entire morning purposefully not making eye contact with Rudyard, who was doing an equally less subtle job trying to get his attention. The emails were understandable but, really, paper airplanes? Chapman stuck to his resolve though, and while he didn't get much work done he didn't engage with Rudyard so in his mind it was a win. He couldn’t help the voice at the back of his head asking why he was so afraid of Rudyard now, why he hadn’t reacted this way when Georgie found out, but he already knew the answer to that.

Around lunchtime Rudyard made his way hesitantly to Chapman’s desk. 

“Chapman?” Rudyard asked attempting to meet his eye. “Georgie stole my lunch date with Antigone today, I was wondering if you’d like to get a bite to eat?” 

“I’m sorry Rudyard, but I can’t.”

“Why is that?”

“I have a-err-a thing. To do. Right now. Very busy.”

“Right that is IT!” Rudyard said manhandling Chapman out of his seat and dragging him down the hall despite the other man’s protest. He pushed Chapman into the broom closet (coincidentally the one Chapman had used multiple times to make a quick costume change) and locked the door behind him. Chapman felt his face heat up at the sudden proximity of the two but attempted to play it off as anger as best he could.

“Rudyard, you can just _do_ things like this I have to get back to writing I’ve got a million deadlines and-“ 

“Now look here, can you just,” Rudyard sighed, “Just listen to me. Really, without the banter and the arguing for _once._ ”

“I… Okay.”

Rudyard started to say something but before Chapman could stop himself he blurted out:

“How did you know I was Superman?”

Rudyard started to answer but before he could get any words out Chapman interrupted again with: 

“Did Georgie tell you?” 

Rudyard seemed to be taken aback by that and shook his head to collect his thoughts.

“What?! No… Wait, Georgie knows?! I mean I guess I shouldn't be surprised that girl knows absolutely everything, but really you told her and not me?!”

“I didn't tell her, she found out on her own.” 

“That makes sense, I mean once you remove the glasses it is fairly obvious.”

“Excuse me?”

“That's how I found out.” Rudyard said tapping the frame of Chapman’s glasses and making his heart do somersaults. “Your glasses they-well, they fell off when you saved me from Jerry, that crazy baker guy, and I just knew. Everything sort of, fit into place I guess.”

“…Right.” Chapman didn't know what to say to that. Everything was out in the open now. They stood in silence for a couple of moments, looking anywhere but at each other before Rudyard spoke again.

“Listen, Eric, I…” Rudyard started, wringing his hands together nervously. “I know you’re Superman but you’re not stupid. I just… why would you even _consider_ giving yourself up to that psycho and ruining everything you've built - everything you stand for?” 

“Rudyard, I…”

“I’m not important, okay? I’m not even close to being the type of person worthy of giving up your life. I’m rude and I’m arrogant and I’m awful to you and you have to go turn around and sacrifice yourself to me and it’s really the most Eric Chapman thing anyone’s ever seen. Its not fair… You’re beautiful and smart and kind and a fucking _superhero_ for Christ sakes and I just-I just don't understand why you would give it all up for me of all people.”

“Rudyard you…” Chapman took one of Rudyard’s hands (if only so he would stop fidgeting with them) and held it in his own, careful to avoid the bruises on the other’s wrists. “You never fail to surprise me. I think I know one thing about you and then you flip it on its head and leave me scrambling to catch up. I thought I knew humanity inside out, the best and the worst parts, but you… There’s something about you that’s always stumped me.” 

“Eric, please…”

“Everyone around here lets me get away with everything, especially when I’m Superman but you… You hold me accountable and challenge what I believe and you never let me win. God, even when you were flying off the roof of a building you never let me win. There's never a moment with you where you haven't got me completely enthralled, Rudyard. Despite what you think, you too are _kind_ and smart and beautiful.”

By this point, their faces were so close that Chapman could see each individual freckle on the other man's cheeks. He looked up into the sharp green of the other man’s eyes, and the words he spent so many hours trying to perfect spill out of him. 

“You are complex, passionate, and everything I want but can’t have. You are singlehandedly the most interesting person on this island, I mean, how could I not fall in love with you.”

And in that moment, Rudyard Funn lives up to Eric’s long speech and does the one thing he was not expecting.

Rudyard grabs Chapman by his overly fancy tie and pulls him up and kisses him. Chapman’s hands go immediately around Rudyard’s waist to pull him closer and Rudyard’s hands make their way up from his tie to his neck and eventually to cup his face. The kiss was passionate, the pent up feelings of just over a year making their way through lips and tongues, but also had a sweet undertone. Like the two men understood that this was exactly where they were meant to be - cramped together in a tiny broom closet, making out like teenagers.

Chapman feels his feet start to lift off the ground in his excitement, and when Rudyard notices he simply smiles and balances on Chapman’s toes so he too can rise into the air. Chapman wasn't sure how high we would have gotten if their weightless kissing wasn't interrupted suddenly by the door swinging open and a knowing smirk gleaming back at them.

“Were you two just…” Georgie started, “…floating? You know what, never mind, I don't actually want to know. Everyone owes me 20 quid each though, so thank you guys for finally smartening up.”

Rudyard and Chapman look at each other once before looking back at Georgie. 

“Now you two get back to the “floating” you guys were doing before. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Mr. Desmond his two best reporters are skipping work to grope each other in the broom closet. I would suggest putting an Out of Order sign on the door though.” Georgie said with a wink before closing the door and leaving the two men alone once more.

Chapman looks at Rudyard and sees the beautiful blush he's come to know so well spread over Rudyard’s cheeks, highlighting his freckles in the way that makes Chapman’s stomach flip. Before he can stop himself, he lightly brushes on of Rudyard’s dark curls away from his eyes. Rudyard looks up at him with big eyes and a soft smile, slowly removing his glasses and tucking them in his own back pocket.

It was Chapman this time that initiated the kiss, pressing Rudyard against the door and running his hands down the taller man's chest. Rudyard couldn't help but smile back into the kiss and tug on the fine hairs at the nape of Chapman’s neck causing him to give out an embarrassing moan.

And for the first time in a very long time, Eric Chapman thought Piffling Vale would be fine without it’s Superman - of only for a few hours at least.


End file.
